


say it (spit it out)

by oforamuse



Series: shameless oneshots [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oforamuse/pseuds/oforamuse
Summary: ‘you guys shouldn’t have worked out- nothing about the two of you makes any fuckin’ sense and yet...it always comes back to you two.’or, the one where mickey finally calls mandy and tells her about the wedding.set somewhere between 10x11 and 10x12
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mandy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich
Series: shameless oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652296
Comments: 24
Kudos: 225





	say it (spit it out)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a companion piece to 'told you that i missed you' - where ian calls fiona and tells her. it occurred to me a few days ago that both boys have sisters that are far away and no longer involved, it made my heart hurt a little. so this is kinda sad. 
> 
> title taken from bury a friend by billie eilish. 
> 
> enjoy kids.

Mickey sighs and stares at the scribbled numbers on the crumpled receipt in his hand. It's been sitting in the back of his wallet, untouched, for months. 

His breath hitches, and he figures it’s finally time. 

He dials the number hesitantly, his fingers trembling slightly with every touch to the screen. He didn’t think he’d find this so scary, which considering the amount of times he’s been at the receiving end of a gun, is bizarre to think about. 

He gulps. He brings the phone up against his ear and leans back against the Gallagher’s kitchen counter. It’s a blissfully peaceful morning in the usually busy and somewhat manic Gallagher house, everyone else seems to be out - not that he’s keeping track of people’s schedules, he just lucked out. Ian’s at a meeting with his P.O, it was almost impossible to get him out of the house this morning - neither man wanting to move from their cuddled position in the middle of the bed. It had taken his alarm going off six times before Mickey had practically pushed him off the mattress and onto the floor, claiming he would pre-emptively divorce him if he doesn’t _shut that fuckin’ thing up, already_ (there was a promise of a blowjob later, though.). 

The call clicks through. There’s a rustle of noise and Mickey’s breath catches in his throat. 

‘Mandy.’ Mickey says, it comes out gruff and low. They haven’t spoken to each other in years - he hasn’t even seen her since one of the first months the first time he was locked up. She didn’t try and reach him in Mexico, heck, he doesn’t even know which state she’s in. It’s been years since Ian saw her too, he claims. There’s a gulp on the other end. 

‘You’re out.’ She states simply, skipping pointedly over the sentimentalities of two siblings that haven’t spoken nor seen each other in years. He could’ve probably expected it years ago, back when they were kids, but over the years they fell apart, no longer giving each other the support they probably should’ve. Her voice is held and tight, there’s an edge to it he can’t quite place, it’s unnerving. 

He wonders what she looks like now, somewhat wracking his brain trying to place how much he remembers when he last saw her. He looks down at his left hand gripping the side of the sink, his engagement ring glinting in the light. It’s a stark contrast between the angry dark ink on his knuckles, the constant reminder of his roots and where he was grown from. The dark and hollow family tree he’ll never fully be able to escape from, no matter how much he’s tried. No matter how much either of them have tried. Being a Milkovich will always be there, following him closely behind like a shadow he can’t quite shake. 

The silver band on his finger suddenly feels very heavy. The type of heavy that sits in your stomach warmly, grounding you to the floor. Mickey’s ridiculously fucking happy. 

_I’ll marry you, course I’ll fucking marry you._

Is she happy? 

‘Yeah.’ He breathes into the receiver, it’s shaky and caught. ‘Got out, uh, month or so ago. Overcrowding or some shit.’ It’s a lie, but he doesn’t know how much Mandy knows about Mexico or rolling on the cartel. Heck, he doesn’t even know if she knows Ian got locked up too. The thought makes something in him shift, it’s uncomfortable and overwhelming, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

‘Congrats.’ She says, ‘I guess.’ 

It hangs awkwardly in the tinny silence between them. Mickey suddenly feels his cheeks flush and feels horribly, horribly vulnerable. He doesn’t even know why he fucking bothered to call, it was a dumb _idea-_

‘Last I heard you were in Mexico.’ She continues, and there’s a car honking loudly out in the background. It sounds like she might be on a balcony, perhaps in the middle of the city somewhere. Maybe, thousands of miles away. ‘How’d you swing that?’ 

Mickey lets out the breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding and it flows out broken through his teeth, his lungs deflating. ‘You know about Mexico?’ 

‘Dad.’ She replies, and it’s dull and heavy. This takes him sharply by surprise like a stab to the gut, they both fucking hate their father. 

‘Didn’t realise you guys were still talkin’.’ He swallows, trying to conceal the heavy lump forming in his throat. He always figured Mandy was like him, ready to cut off contact with their family as soon as she had the means to. It’s a shock to find out different. 

‘We’re not.’ She replies firmly, and Mickey gets the clear message that she’s not going to give him any more details to play with. She exhales on the other end and Mickey pictures her blowing out smoke into the crisp air, watching it ascend up towards the sky as she so often did. 

Fuck, he could use a cigarette. 

‘Why’d you call?’ 

‘Can’t a guy call his sister? What’s with the 20 fuckin’ questions.’ Mickey gruffs, but he knows it’s not a ridiculous question. They don’t do this. They don’t keep up with each other’s lives. It makes something in Mickey’s chest ache dully, but he knows they could’ve probably gone the rest of their lives without exchanging another word. ‘You gave me your fuckin’ number.’ 

‘Yeah, and you’ve never fuckin’ used it.’ She snaps back, it’s exasperated and weighty. He can see her frustrated, twisted face, her hands clenched at her sides. It’s a sight he's seen so many times before. 

‘Excuse me for being locked up and on the goddamn run.’ He bites back, ‘Not much time to chit chat between prison sentences and pushin’ coke for Mexicans...’ His fleeting anger trails off, and they breath slowly together, knowing they’ve both played an equally big part in neglecting the other. 

Mandy lets out a thin, exhausted laugh, it comes through tinny and static. ‘You’re an asshole, you know that?’ 

He rolls his eyes, ‘I’m calling now, okay?’ Mickey sighs, his hand adjusting it’s tight grip on the phone. He feels like he might accidentally snap it in two. 'Not sure why it was left to me, but whatever.' 

He feels like he might accidentally snap in two. He swallows.

_Might as well get it over with._

‘Ian and _I-’_ He starts, his left hand gripping the side even tighter, knuckles whitening against the silver band. 

‘God, you really couldn’t keep away could you?’ Mandy interrupts, it’s airy and light yet coloured with something heavier. Something low and fiery sparks in his stomach. He knows Mandy’s never been entirely supportive of his relationship with Ian - not because she disapproves or anything, but because she knows how badly he fucked him up when they were kids, it’s hard to come back from that. He’ll always be her piece of shit brother that knocked up a whore, got married, and fucked around her best friend. He doesn’t even think she has a clue about what happened with Svetlana, not that she should, not that he'd ever tell her. He doubts that Ian’s ever crossed that line either. 

‘Shut the _fuck_ up-’ He bites back, teeth gritted, despite knowing it’s 100% true - he couldn’t keep away even if he tried. He doesn’t even know who he’s kidding, he got his ass thrown back into the joint purely so he could be with Ian. He never wants to stay away. 

‘You whipped bastard.’ She says, and Mickey could put money on her smiling right now, a big toothy grin that she only wheels out for special occasions, he hears it in her voice. The pent up tension deflates ever so slightly, bringing him back down to earth. 

‘Whatever.’ He grunts casually, though his cheeks flush with red hot embarrassment and he sends a quiet thanks out into the universe that there’s no one else here to witness this. 

‘So...’ Mandy starts, her voice hanging expectedly. ‘You and Ian are what?’ 

He can’t help the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile, because of course he can’t stop himself from smiling when he thinks of Ian, he feels like a fucking teenage girl. 

‘We’re getting hitched.’ He says, his shoulders falling down in relief. He’ll never get tired of it. 

Mandy makes a strangled noise from the other end. ‘No fuckin’ way, you’ve finally put your big boy pants on, huh?’ She quips humorously, but it stings, ever so slightly. ‘That divorce from your first wife finally roll through?’

He knows it’s supposed to be a joke, one of Mandy’s often ill thought out comments, but he can’t help the way his hand trembles. 

‘Fuck off.’ He snaps because he’s _not_ thinking about that period of his life today, no thank you, that is not the conversation they’re about to have. He hasn’t thought about Svetlana or the baby or the weird home that he and Ian crafted together for those few months, all those years ago. It hurts too much to think about, to think about how quickly it all came crashing down around him, burning and crumbling to the ground. Ian’s mania, getting locked up, that horrible, horrible day out in the front yard. 

He used to think a lot about it when he was in Mexico, he’d see a young couple and it would _hit_ him like a baseball bat to the skull that he would never get to have that again.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , he gets to have Ian back for good now. Maybe the universe is done ripping the only good and solid thing in Mickey’s life away from him. 

‘You gonna come?’ He grunts, shifting the subject away from the painful ache in his chest. It doesn’t work. 

‘It gonna be in Chicago?’ Mandy sighs, and Mickey already knows the answer. 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Nah.’ Mandy breathes, ‘There’s nothing left for me there.’ 

It should hurt more, Mickey realises solemnly, but it doesn’t. 

He understands, he gets it. 

Lots of shit went down for Mandy in Chicago, lots of shit went down for him. He knows what it’s like to walk around with a name like Milkovich on your back, like a target, like a shadow. He doesn’t blame her for needing the space, the distance, a different air to breathe. He’d want the change too if his heart wasn’t so intrinsically rooted here, if he hadn’t spent years fighting just to get back to this point - the safety of Ian’s love and the solid walls of the Gallagher kitchen. He’d never thought he’d think of this house as some sort of paradise, but after years of struggling against the tide, it’s nice to be able to breathe again. 

‘I’m real happy for you, Mick.’ Mandy says and Mickey can hear her swallow deeply though the receiver. ‘And Ian- _fuck_ , I can’t believe you guys.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘You guys shouldn’t have worked out- nothing about the two of you makes any fuckin’ sense and yet...it always comes back to you two.’ She says brokenly, her breath held and tight. She lets out a hollow, sad laugh. ‘Never actually thought you two were the real deal.’ 

Mickey doesn’t know what to say. He breathes, waiting. 

‘Always figured Ian could’ve done better, especially when you got locked up...thought you’d just been, you know, fucking him around.’ She continues and Mickey has to swallow down a sharp, automatic response as she rallies through. ‘Guess I was wrong though… that asshole always was a little self destructive.’ 

‘Guess we both are.’ Mickey quietly but firmly and there’s a pause before they both let out broken and hesitant laughs. The moment is melancholic and filled with the knowing that they all deserved more out of life. ‘Just thought you should know.’ 

‘Thanks.’ Mandy says, after a moment. ‘I’m happy for you guys.’ 

It hangs there sadly, both of them aware of the struggle it’s been. 

Mickey hums, unable to find the words, his thumb stroking the wedding band softly. 

‘I’ve gotta go.’ Mandy sighs, and he can hear her rustling down the other end. ‘Thanks for calling, Mick.’ 

‘Yeah.’ He breathes, unsure whether he wants the conversation to end here or not, but pushing down the need to say anything else. 

‘Congrats.’ Mandy swallows, there’s a beat and the line clicks off. He closes his eyes, and breathes. 

He’s not sure how long he stands there, phone still pressed up against his ear, but he breaks when he hears the door rattle open moving quickly to wipe at his eyes. He opens the fridges and grabs a distracting beer, it’s cool against his skin. Someone trudges up the front staircase, their footsteps following all the way to the upstairs landing. A door slams. Carl, maybe?

He opens the beer and chugs it down in one go. 

It stings. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to note also that though i love fics where mickey and mandy's relationship is a lot closer and supportive, that's not the way it pans out in the actual show and i try and keep my writing as canon compliant as possible. i would've loved them to have an easier relationship, that's just not the case. 
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading as always.
> 
> comments, kudos and feedback are hugely appreciated. 
> 
> [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/buzzcutian) and oforamuse on tumblr  
> xoxo


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